it's a love (that will keep me holding on)
by Tarafina
Summary: Scott, Malia, and their son Mateo, reflect on family, pack, the war, and how fortunate they are to have each other.


**dedicated to** : scoliatrash (tumblr) for the 2018 scolia secret santa  
 **ship** : scott/malia  
 **word count** : 8,150

* * *

 _ **it's a love (that will keep me holding on)  
**_ **1/1**

The Christmas Light tour was his parents' favorite holiday pastime. Every year, for as long as Mateo could remember, they would load into the car and drive neighborhood to neighborhood to enjoy the different light displays people had put up. And every year it ended with the Jacobson house, where they had a glittering, colorful walk-through with cheerful Christmas music, an interactive Mary, Joseph, and Jesus in the manger, a goat petting zoo, and a snack area.

Mateo walked just behind his parents, eating popcorn he'd bought from an 8-year-old that was definitely overpricing her goods. He might've grumbled, but he also paid. So did his dad, who bought himself and his wife a cup of homemade apple cider, grinning as she asked for "six dollars, plus gratuity, please and thank you."

Scott and Malia McCall walked through a tunnel of blinking lights, arm in arm, admiring the colors as they went. Well, if Mateo was being accurate, Malia was admiring the lights. Scott was admiring her. At seventeen, Mateo was used to it. He was one of the lucky few kids whose parents still loved each other. Almost too much, really. They didn't call each other pet names, thankfully. But they were physically affectionate, always touching in some fashion, even if it was just to stand shoulder to shoulder. And if they weren't, they seemed uncannily aware of each other. Always looking up just as the other entered a room or fully aware of where the other was at all times. Mateo chalked it up in part to the war. To needing to know where the other was for safety purposes. The war ended a long time ago, but there were some habits that were hard to break. Mateo wasn't even sure he'd want them to.

His phone buzzed in his pocket then. Glancing at his parents quickly, he pulled it out. There was an unread text on the screen.

 **Tori:** _come on, it'll be fun!_

Frowning, Mateo thumbed back— ' _I don't know...'_ He tucked his phone away and shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"They added more this year." Malia hugged her cider to her chest and leaned against Scott's shoulder. "And they changed the Santa. Last year he had that weird beard, remember?"

"Yeah." Scott snorted. "I remember you telling them their Santa was creepy. I also remember you telling them if their elves weren't being paid it was considered slave labour and you could arrest them for that."

"I _could_."

"The elves were their grandchildren."

Malia raised an eyebrow. "Does that mean they aren't owed a regular wage?"

Scott raised a hand in surrender. "I'm pretty sure they're getting paid this year."

"The elf running the popcorn stand said she gets a commission. The rest of it goes to charity." Mateo shook his head. "I didn't even _know_ the word _'_ commission' at eight years old."

"Good. Maybe they'll unionize." Malia grinned. "Anyway, I wanna see the goats."

"Okay." Scott nodded. "But, I'm pretty sure Mrs. Jacobson is running the petting zoo. She wasn't exactly receptive last year when you offered to buy a reindeer off her because, and I quote, 'you always wondered what they tasted like.'"

Malia rolled her eyes. "Deer, reindeer, I was curious. Anyway, I'm pretty sure she thought I was joking."

Mateo smirked. "She definitely hoped you were."

Malia reached back to bat a hand against his arm. "So, I won't offer to pay, _generously_ , to eat their rented livestock. Lesson learned."

Grinning, Scott shook his head.

Malia dropped her chin to his shoulder and leaned into him. Scott wrapped his arm around her while Malia's looped around his waist. Together, the three of them left the tunnel and made their way over to the petting zoo.

While Malia handed her cider off to Scott and made her way into the petting area, Scott and Mateo leaned against the fence to watch.

Scott dragged his gaze away from Malia and looked to his son. "Having fun?"

Mateo nodded. "Probably not as much fun as I did as a kid, but yeah, it's nice." His phone buzzed, but he ignored it. "What about you?"

"Yeah, it's good." Scott smiled and waved to a family when one of them called out a cheerful, 'Merry Christmas, Dr. McCall.' Being the town vet, he was a familiar face to most. "Your mom's been excited to come. I think she's worried you won't be around to enjoy it next year."

Mateo half-smiled. "I get holidays off from college, dad."

"I know. But, you know, things happen. You might get busy or want to spend the holiday at someone else's house. And we'll understand if you do, of course. You're growing up. You get to make those decisions for yourself."

"I plan to be here next year."

Scott looked over at him hopefully. "Yeah?"

Mateo nodded. "I like our traditions. And even though I'm excited to start college, I'll miss this place. It's home."

"I'm glad. I mean, I'm proud of you. You worked really hard and you're gonna do great at UC Davis next year. But I'm also going to miss you… a lot. And so is your mom."

Mateo's phone buzzed again, demanding attention, and guilt ate at his stomach.

"Dr. McCall?"

Scott turned toward the voice. "Mr. Williams, hey." He held up the two cups of cider as an apology for not shaking hands. "Happy Holidays."

"Happy Holidays," Mr. Williams returned. "I'm glad I ran in to you. My wife and I are doing a little last-minute fundraising..."

"Uh, yeah, sure." Scott smiled at Mateo. "I'll just be a few minutes. Let your mom know, okay?"

Mateo nodded and then glanced over to his mom, who was surrounded by bleating baby goats, all stumbling to get closer to her as she crouched low to pet each of them.

With Scott gone and Malia busy, Mateo pulled his phone out to check his messages.

 **Tori** : _It's one night. They won't even notice!_

 **Tori:** _Are you a werewolf or a scaredy-wolf? Come on!_

Mateo rolled his eyes. —' _First of all, I'm a coyote. And second of all... Maybe. I don't know. It's kind of late, don't you think?'_

 **Tori** : _It's not like you have school in the morning. (eye roll emoji) We'll go out for a few hours, have some fun, and have you back and tucked into bed before you know it._

He chewed his lip and glanced at his mom who was giggling as a goat climbed her back and stood atop her shoulder triumphantly.

He thumbed out a half-hearted excuse. — _'I have family coming out tomorrow._ '

 **Tori:** _Don't be a wimp, McCall._

He sighed. —' _Name calling? Seriously? Are we 12?'_

 **Tori** : _A 12-year-old wouldn't whine this much. Are you in or what?_

Mateo hesitated but eventually replied with just one word— _'Fine_ ' He shoved his phone into his pocket. "Nice goat pack, mom."

She grinned up at him. "I'm the Goat Alpha."

He snorted and shook his head. "I think our other Alpha might need help getting away from fundraisers."

Malia looked in Scott's direction and sighed. "Your dad's too nice. They'll squeeze him for every penny." Standing from her goat pile, she scratched a few nearby heads and ears and then shuffled her way out of the pen. Dusting her hands off, she hooked an arm through Mateo's. "Come on, let's go rescue him."

Together, they walked toward Scott, who sent them a pleading look as he smiled awkwardly at the people trying to pitch their last-minute campaigns.

"Hey, Bill," Malia greeted. "You paid those parking tickets, right? I don't want to tow you again."

"Sheriff McCall." Bill smiled awkwardly. "Happy Holidays."

"Happy Holidays." Malia half-smirked. "So… about those parking tickets?"

"Uh, yes, of course. I'll pay them first thing in the new year."

"Good. You know, parking in front of fire hydrants is such a dick move—"

"Okay!" Scott laughed abruptly, handed Malia her cider, and said, "We should get going. We have a lot of family coming in to town tomorrow and we've still got some things to do around the house." He held a hand out. "Bill, it was good to see you."

"Yes, you too, Dr. McCall." Bill shook his hand and then glanced at Malia and Mateo. "Have a good night!" With that, he quickly ushered his wife away.

Malia smiled after them, satisfied.

Scott sighed. "They were just trying to get help."

"They were trying to get money." Malia rolled her eyes. "They wouldn't need to campaign for everybody else's if they didn't spend so much on Bill's parking tickets. He always says he didn't see the signs but I know he's lying. I can literally smell it on him." Rolling her eyes, Malia hooked her free arm through Scott's. "Anyway, come on. They're selling mini-donuts up front. I want a bag before we leave."

Shaking his head, more amused than anything, Scott followed as Malia tugged them along.

* * *

.o.

* * *

When Mateo was 6 years old, he spent Christmas Eve at his grandparents. They baked cookies to put out for Santa while Bing Crosby played in the background. Grandpa Chris gave him one gift to open early, as was tradition. It was a single arrow and a promise to teach Mateo how to use a bow. Despite proclaiming that he was going to stay up all night and catch Santa, he actually fell asleep a little after nine o'clock, snuggled up against Melissa's side, missing the end of The Polar Express. This was not how things usually went at his own home.

Every year, for as long as Mateo could remember, his parents had one very important debate: Is Die Hard a Christmas movie?

It was Scott's position that no, it was not a Christmas movie, and they should probably watch something Miracle on 34th Street or A Christmas Story. But Malia maintained that it occurred on Christmas, therefore, it qualified. And so, the McCall tradition each year was to see who came up with the best reason why Die Hard was or wasn't a Christmas movie. If Malia won, they all watched Die Hard, and if she lost, Scott got to pick something more traditional. Though, Mateo was pretty sure that at least half the time his dad gave in just because he wanted his wife to be happy. They could be sappy like that.

So, it was with no small bit of pleasure that Mateo found himself lounging in an arm chair, his favorite slippers on, a mug of warm horchata hugged in one hand, listening to his parents banter back and forth.

"If horror movies are still Christmas movies then action movies can be too! And before you start, I made a list! There's that Black Christmas. Krampus. Gremlins!" Malia exclaimed from her seat on the floor, legs crossed beneath her, as she finished wrapping a small stack of presents. She already had a band-aid on two of her fingers from nicking herself on scissors and the metal piece on the tape roll. "I don't want to watch them, but they still count!"

Shaking his head, Scott smiled down at her. "Fine. We'll watch Die Hard."

Malia beamed up at him.

"Mostly because last year, when we didn't, you got Chris on your side and he spent a whole hour talking about why we should actually watch Die Hard 2 since it's set on Christmas Eve."

Malia's eyes lit up. " _Actually_ …"

"No!" Scott shook his head. "We agreed on Die Hard. See, I'm already putting it on." As the TV lit up with the familiar opening credits, Scott circled the coffee table to take a seat on the couch, his knee resting against Malia's shoulder. "You want some help?"

Malia looked from her pile of wrapped gifts to what was waiting. "Remind me again why I waited until now to do this?"

"You were busy. We both were."

She scrunched her nose up. "Yeah, but the deal was you'd pick up the gifts and I'd wrap them."

"'Teo helped." Scott grinned at him. "I bet he'd like to wrap a few too."

Mateo sighed. He pulled himself up from his arm chair and made his way over, taking a seat on the floor, directly across from his mom. "Sure." He put his horchata down, not even slightly surprised when she stole it. "Mom, I _just_ asked if you wanted some…"

Malia shrugged. "I gave birth to you, I can change my mind whenever I want."

Mateo rolled his eyes.

Chuckling under his breath, Scott handed a few gifts toward him. "Here. These are for your cousins."

Taking them, he raised an eyebrow. "Who gets what?"

Between the three of them, it took a little over an hour to get everything wrapped and put under the tree, spilling out in front of the fireplace. Come morning, there would be even more. Despite no longer believing in Santa, his parents liked to keep a few gifts back and put them out after Mateo had gone to bed. Plus, once everyone else arrived, there would be even more. An obscene amount if one didn't consider just how many people the presents would be split between. That was one thing Mateo loved, just how big his family was, and how quick they were to come together to celebrate.

It was nearly eleven when he decided to turn in. John McClane was still in the process of saving/surviving Nakatomi Tower while his parents cuddled on the couch, legs tangled together. The firelight glinted off of their wedding bands, hands folded over Malia's stomach.

"I'm heading to bed."

Malia tipped her head back to look at him. "Okay. Dad's making breakfast tomorrow. _Early_. Grandpa Henry will be here around ten. Everybody else not long after that."

Mateo nodded. "I'll be up."

"Have a good sleep, 'Te."

"I will. Night, mom. Dad."

"Night," they chorused back.

Mateo left the living room and made his way to the kitchen. He rinsed his mug and put it away in the dish washer before climbing the stairs to the second floor. His phone buzzed in his pocket just as he was walking into his bedroom.

 **Tori:** _2 hr count down!_

Despite a heavy feeling in his gut, he felt a little excitement too.

* * *

.o.

* * *

It was hard to outsmart a cop, especially one with super-senses. But Mateo was feeling pretty proud of himself as he snuck down the stairs, skipping the one that always creaked, and crossed the foyer to the front door. He'd been smart, carrying his jacket and boots and tip-toeing to mitigate any noise. He paused in the front hall, an ear extended behind him to see if his parents had woken up. He could hear his dad's familiar snore and just barely curbed the urge to fist-pump with triumph.

Glittering red lights played across the floor, catching his eye. The tree was still lit up. Strung with lights, tinsel, and years of collected baubles, Christmas had basically vomited all over it. A smile ticked up the corner of his mouth. Every December 1st, his mom dragged out three giant Rubbermaid containers, filled to the brim with Christmas decorations, and every year she gave up halfway through. It was the tree that always got her. Spending so much time in one concentrated place, carefully placing ornaments based on size and weight. She reached her limit quick and gave up on the _quintessential Christmas experience_ with a huff and a glare. Ever patient, his dad would step in to help out. Mateo liked it. He never understood the pressure around having everything look perfect. But his mom had missed out on a lot of Christmases. Between all the years she spent in the woods and then a decade or so of fighting, she always went the extra mile to make holidays special. He loved her for it.

Which made a pit of regret suddenly open up in Mateo's stomach.

Of his parents, his dad worried the most. But his dad tempered everything with the weight of his trust. Since Mateo was little, he'd had his dad's hand on his shoulder, never telling him to do the right thing, just trusting that he would. And if he didn't know what the right thing was, trusting that he would ask. His mother was much less subtle. In fact, 'blunt' was a pretty good descriptor of Malia McCall. If she was upset, she told him. If she was disappointed, she explained why. If she was worried, she stopped him. And if he was in trouble, she fought for him. Not to say his father wouldn't. Scott might try to shield Mateo from his war stories, but his uncle Stiles had no such qualms, even if he occasionally embellished his own heroic abilities from time to time. Still, the way Stiles told it, Scott McCall, the _true alpha_ , vanquished all of his enemies and protected everyone who crossed his path. Even those that weren't, necessarily, allies. Which, Stiles was quick to point out, was dangerous and stupid, _but_... that was just who Scott was. A protector.

And so was Malia.

Mateo loved his mother. She was definitely the louder, wilder, and sterner of his parents, but that was because of what she lost. _Who_ she lost. A picture of a grandmother and an aunt that Mateo would never know sat on the hearth, next to an abundance of photos filled with people he did know. Family through choice. His pack. A mixture of humans, shifters, and even a former hunter.

Before he knew it, Mateo had crossed the living room floor to stand at the fireplace, looking from face to face, lit with the twinkling red lights of the tree.

Come tomorrow, most of them would be there, driving or flying from wherever they were to converge in Beacon Hills. Mateo was lucky. While his pack was spread out across the globe, they all came home for special events: birthdays, holidays, anniversaries. And growing up, even if they weren't there with him physically, they checked in a lot. Video calls were a regular for him. At seventeen, he was the oldest of the children, born when the war was at its peak, right before the end. The way his Uncle Stiles put it, Mateo took his first breath as Monroe took her last. He tried to imagine it sometimes, what it must have been like for his parents. His mother, pregnant and on the run, struggling to keep herself, her child, her husband, and her pack alive. And his dad, fighting a war that demanded death and sacrifice, wanting so desperately to prove that shifters were not as bloodthirsty as Monroe and her hunters said they were, knowing that his family was in the line of fire every single day.

Mateo never saw that part. He never saw the bloodshed, the stress, the desperation. He was born surrounded by the best people he'd ever known. Aunts and uncles, grandparents by blood and choice, in a world that had just become a little safer for him to grow up in. And every day since, his parents had done everything for his life to stay that way.

"Your daring escape is taking longer than I expected."

Startled, Mateo whirled around to find his mother in the mouth of the living room, arms crossed and shoulder resting against the doorway. "Mom! Hey! Uh… This isn't what it looks like...?"

She raised an eyebrow. "No? It looks like you were trying to sneak out. Carrying your shoes was a nice touch. The rubber squeaks on the hardwoods."

"Yeah." He let out a quiet laugh. "Guess I'm busted, huh?"

"Well, you never actually made it out the front door, so I'm not sure... Do I ground you for planning and not executing it, or appreciate that you didn't?"

Mateo rubbed the back of his neck. "You know what Uncle Stiles would say?"

At the same time, they recited, " _What would Scott McCall do?"_

Malia rolled her eyes, a fond smile pulling at her mouth. "I'm sure he'd give you a nice lecture on responsibility and trust. Unfortunately for you, he's sleeping." She pushed off the doorway then and walked toward him, her robe swinging around her legs with each step. "What were you looking at?"

"Huh? Oh, just the pictures." He turned back to the mantle. "Do you ever... I mean, I know it was a long time ago, the war, but... Do you think about it a lot?"

Malia stared at the pictures a long moment, the good humor of before fading.

Mateo bit his lip, regretting bringing up such a dark subject. "Never mind. We don't have to talk about it."

She shook her head. "It's fine." She plucked a photo from the mantle. "I do. I think about it all the time... How lucky we are that we survived. How proud I am, of our pack and your dad and you..."

"Me?" He frowned. "I didn't do anything."

"Sure you did." She smiled. "You gave us all hope."

"But I was born after."

"Yeah, but you were still with us." Her hand fell to her stomach. "I didn't even know I was pregnant. Didn't even cross my mind. But your dad figured it out... He could hear your heartbeat." She snorted a laugh. "He went into protective dad mode _immediately_. We were staying in some ratty hotel just outside of Arizona. We were all spread out. Monroe's hunter pack was growing and we were forced to hide, keep our heads down. They were taking out alphas left, right, and center. Nobody was safe. So, we split up. I hadn't seen Stiles or Lydia for almost a year by then. It was just safer that way. Scott was always telling me I should go too, find Derek or Cora or hell, even Peter, and just keep as far away from him and the target on his back as I could get. But I never listened. If we were going to die, we were going to do it together."

Mateo took a seat on the couch and stared up at her, a distant look to her eyes. "How old were you guys?"

"Twenty-four. The war had been going on for six years already. Every time we thought we were getting ahead, that we had some kind of advantage, Monroe would prove us wrong." She ran a hand through her hair and shook her head. "It was hard. Isolating. We would meet with packs, try to build up some kind of resistance, but half the time, right after we'd make an alliance, we'd hear the whole pack was slaughtered. We had to be careful about who we talked to, who we trusted, everything."

He shook his head, not quite able to fathom the imagery she painted. "So, what changed?"

Malia shrugged. "I got pregnant. At probably the worst possible time." She paused. "Maybe a week after finding out, I almost died."

Mateo sat forward, his eyes wide. "What?"

"Yeah." She walked over and joined him on the couch, tucking a leg under her. "Whoever was killing the packs had finally caught up. They thought I'd be good leverage to grab Scott, bring him back to Monroe and get some glory out of it. Anyway, he was right about getting Scott's attention. But... they expected him to go quietly." She turned her gaze away, settling it on the tree. Her face shone an eerie red. "They were wrong."

"What did dad do?"

Her gaze fell. "He protected me. _Us."_ She turned to him then. "Just like he always has. And when it was over, he decided something had to change."

"He sent you away?"

"No. He called everyone home." She half-smiled. "We were stronger together. It was risky, but at that point, we didn't have a lot of choices... We had to do something, had to end the war once and for all, or none of us were going to have a chance. And _you_... You represented the future. I think, for him, he knew it was going to end one way or another. Either we all go out together or we create something better."

Mateo nodded slowly. "And you did. You won."

"Yeah. I don't know if I'd call it winning. But we survived." She took his hand then and squeezed it tightly. "It was the best and most terrifying time of my life. I had my pack back, I had you, and I don't know. I just kind of knew we'd be okay. At the same time, I had no idea what kind of mom I'd be and we were still in hiding and everybody and their cousin was trying to kill us, but... Everyone was there. They were all trying to get us through it." She frowned. "It was hard to rely on people like that. To trust that they could fight when I couldn't. But they did. And when your dad was out there with every alpha left standing, fighting against Monroe and her army, I was in the forest, giving birth in a cave, with Melissa telling me to just breathe. Chris and my dad and Peter were keeping watch. Mason and Corey were scouting. Stiles and Lydia had some master plan they told exactly _no one_. And Liam held my hand through every single contraction. I think the last place he wanted to be was in that cave, but Scott asked him to, so he stayed and he got me through it."

"Were you scared?"

"Terrified." She nodded. "That I would screw it up somehow. That I wouldn't be the mom you needed. That you would lose your dad before he ever met you. That as soon as I got you in my arms, they'd take you away... Back then, there was nothing for us. They were hunting us to extinction. We wanted something different for you. A life where you never had to think about that. Surrounded by people who loved you."

"Mom... I have a great life."

"Yeah? Then why are you trying to sneak out?" She turned a knowing look on him. "You're seventeen. I trust you. But when you've seen the worst, it's hard to let your kid go out into the world on his own." She shook her head. "This time next year, you'll be in college, and you'll only come home to do your laundry and raid our fridge."

"Hardly." He snorted. "I'll be back for holidays and birthdays and anniversaries... and a lot of weekends that I need to do laundry, yeah."

She smiled even as she rolled her eyes. "It's dumb. Because we fought for you to be able to do this but now that it's so close, I don't want to let you go."

"You're not. Not really. This is my home. I'm always going to come back here. And even if I didn't, you and dad prepared me for just about anything. And whatever you didn't know, I had a lot of people who did." He looked to the mantle once more. "Uncle Stiles sends me a closed case every year for my birthday. I mean, he gives everyone a fake name, and it's almost definitely illegal for him to be sharing that stuff, but he wants to know if I'll figure out who did it. And Aunt Lydia made her own app for teaching me archaic Latin. I have no idea when I'll need it, but I know it. And Uncle Corey is maybe the best hide and seek player of all time and every year we play, I get a little better at hiding. Our whole pack is like that. Uncle Liam quizzes me on medical terminology. Grandpa Chris taught me how to use a bow. Grandpa Henry taught me tracking. Grandpa Noah taught me to shoot. Grandma Melissa taught me how to do stitches and sew and cook and probably a thousand other things I can't think of right now. The point is... I have an amazing family and pack and I love all of you."

Malia hummed. "When you put it that way, our pack sounds pretty amazing."

"They are. Tonight was just... I don't know, teenage rebellion? Tori heard there was some party in the old factory district. I would've been back before morning."

Malia reached out and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Out of curiosity, what made you think you could actually sneak out?"

"Old fashioned hubris." He grinned. "Anyway, I heard dad snoring, so I thought I was in the clear." At her curious look, he explained, "He's a light sleeper. Probably the war."

"He can be." She turned her gaze back to the tree. "We learned a long time ago that if he wants to sleep through the night, he just needs to be really tired."

Mateo paused. " _Mom_. You guys are _old!"_

Her head fell back as she laughed. "Not that old."

"Who's old?" Scott's scratchy voice could be heard. He hopped off the last stair and walked toward the living room, scrubbing a hand through his messy hair. "What're you guys doing up? It's..." He squinted at a nearby clock. " _Late_."

Malia shifted over on the couch and patted the spot beside her. "Our delinquent son was trying to sneak out to a party with his girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend," Mateo muttered.

Sighing, Scott crossed the room to slump down on the couch, an arm reaching around Malia's shoulders. He rubbed her arm absently, his mouth hanging wide as he yawned. "It's Christmas Eve."

Mateo shook his head. "I was only gonna go for a couple hours and then come home."

"Without our permission."

His shoulders slumped. "I didn't think you'd let me... I figured if I snuck out, you wouldn't even notice."

Malia snorted. "Lucky for him, I was still awake."

Scott half-smiled. "Pickles again?"

"I can't stop thinking about them." She shook her head. "I try to sleep and I imagine baby dills dancing around my head, begging to be eaten."

He laughed under his breath. "Least you're not putting peanut butter on them this time."

Her nose wrinkled. "Seventeen years later, you're still not over that."

"You made a PB and J with pickles as bread..." He shook his head, his eyes wide. "I'm never gonna forget."

She snorted. "At the time, that was the greatest sandwich ever made."

"Uh-huh." He turned and pressed his forehead against her temple. "You feel any better?"

"I was feeling great up until I realized _someone_ wasn't asleep like I thought."

Scott hummed. He turned his head to look at his son. "'Te _..._ You know if you just talked to us, we probably would've let you go."

" _Probably_. But you guys have been extra protective lately." He raised an eyebrow. "I tried to ride my bike to school last week and mom was convinced I'd hit black ice, careen off the road, and die in a fiery wreck... I don't even know how my bike would've caught fire, but she was pretty descriptive." He frowned. "The roads aren't even icy."

Malia shrugged. "I gave you a ride."

"Okay, but the week before that you cut my steak for me because you thought I'd choke... I'm _seventeen_."

"And you didn't choke." Her brows hiked. "You're welcome."

"What about when you took me to the doctor to get my cholesterol checked? I'm a werecoyote!"

"A werecoyote who doesn't have to worry about dying young from a heart attack. Anyway, you've been eating a lot of bacon lately."

"You know, usually, dad's the overprotective one."

"What?" Scott protested. "No, I'm not."

Malia and Mateo scoffed.

"When have I ever—?"

Malia rolled her eyes. "You once asked me if I'd let you bubble wrap him."

"He was _three_ and he had _zero_ spacial awareness. He kept climbing cabinets and trying to jump off of them. I thought he was a bird shifter for a while. I didn't know how, and I definitely asked Deaton if that was even possible. He just said he was fearless and would learn from doing."

"Exactly. And then he broke his arm—"

"Which the bubble wrap probably would've helped with."

"—and he stopped jumping off of things unless people were around to catch him."

Scott shook his head. "That was the longest year of my life. Every time I came around a corner, he was launching himself at me."

Malia snorted and dropped her head to his shoulder. "And you caught him."

Scott grimaced. "Most of the time."

"Longest year of your life?" Mateo rolled his eyes. "You were at war for like, seven years."

"None of them were three-year-olds that laughed at me when I told them they were giving me a heart attack."

Mateo shrugged. "I grew out of it... eventually."

Scott extended his hand out and gripped Mateo's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Look, if you wanna go to that party tonight, you should go."

Mateo paused, surprised. "Really?"

Scott looked to Malia, who took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. "Yeah, you should."

Mateo perked up. "Is this a trick?"

Malia snorted. "No. But next time, if you try to sneak out instead of just talking to us, you're definitely grounded."

"Okay..." Mateo stared at her suspiciously. "What's different this time?"

"Do you really wanna look a gift horse in the mouth?"

"Nope!" He hopped up from the couch and yanked his jacket on. "It'll only be a couple hours. I won't even drink. Not that alcohol even does anything to me." He paused. "I assume. Because I've never drank."

Scott muffled a smile with his hand. "Just have fun... And look out for your friends. Don't let anyone drive drunk. And-"

"Dad," he interrupted. "I know." He yanked his boots on. " _What would Scott McCall do_?"

Scott sighed. "I hate when you guys say that."

He chuckled. "That's why we say it." After zipping his jacket, he leaned over and kissed his mom's cheek. "I'll make breakfast tomorrow. With extra deer bacon."

Malia reached up and cupped his cheek. "Be safe. And wear your gloves. And a scarf."

"I can't catch a cold, but okay." He backed up toward the doorway then, staring at his parents, lit red from the tree, the picture of a happy couple. His gaze skittered back to the mantle and, for a moment, he was overcome with the realization of everything they'd done for him. How hard they had to work just to survive. And what they had to do to give him the life he had now. Both of them had grown up with their own trials and tribulations, but Mateo had been blessed. He had everything he could ever want. "I love you."

Malia softened, her hand reaching up to fold around Scott's wrist, his arm wrapped around her.

Scott grinned. "We love you too."

Nodding, Mateo turned and made his way to the door.

Back in the living room, Malia leaned into Scott. "I can't believe he's seventeen."

"He's as old as I was when I met you." He rubbed her shoulder. "He's smart and he's kind and he knows what he's doing. We taught him that. We just have to trust he'll remember when he really needs to."

"Yeah." She took a deep breath. "We did a pretty good job with him, huh?"

Scott nuzzled her cheek. "We did an awesome job."

She smiled. "I'm proud of us. Mostly me. I already knew you were going to be an amazing dad. I was only iffy on how I'd do."

"I knew you'd be a great mom. And I was right." He dropped his chin to her shoulder as his hand settled over her stomach. "And now we get to do it all over again."

"Yeah." She snorted. "Remind me again why we waited until 'Teo was leaving for college?"

"We didn't exactly plan for this one... or for Mateo." He shrugged. "But I'm glad."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "We're not on the run. Nobody's trying to kill us. You won't have to give birth in a cave..."

"You can actually be in the delivery room."

"It'll be great... We should tell Mateo tomorrow, at breakfast, before everyone else shows up." He laughed under his breath. "Then all your overprotective instincts are gonna make a lot more sense to him."

She rolled her eyes. "So I cut his steak up a little... Who wants to be remembered as the shifter that died by choking?" She knocked his shoulder with her own. "Anyway, that's not half as bad as you were when I was pregnant with him."

"We were at _literal_ war!"

Malia merely grinned. "And you were a total _dad_ about it." Shifting up from the couch, she pulled on his hand, drawing him along with her as she walked to the stairs. "You know, I'm surprised you're even awake. I thought I did a pretty good job of exhausting you."

Scott stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Doesn't matter how tired I am, I always notice when you're not in bed."

Malia leaned back into him. "Well, if you don't mind a little pickle breath, I'm up for round three."

Chuckling, Scott scooped an arm under her legs and lifted her into a bridal carry, climbing the last of the stairs in a few long strides. "Never let it stop me before."

Malia's warm laughter echoed through the house as he carried her into their bedroom.

* * *

.o.

* * *

It was just after nine when Mateo dragged his exhausted butt out of bed and made his way downstairs. He found his dad in the kitchen; a tall, steaming mug of coffee in front of him.

Scott smiled sleepily. "Hey."

Mateo grunted. He served himself coffee and joined his dad at the island, slouching in his chair. "Where's mom?"

"Sleeping." Scott scrubbed a hand through his hair. "How was the party?"

Mateo shrugged. "All right."

"Worth sneaking out?"

"Not really." He frowned. "Is mom mad?"

Scott hummed. "She's okay."

Mateo's brows arched. "Really?"

"Did she send her deputies over to break up the party?"

"No."

"Then she's not mad."

Mateo snorted. "I guess."

Scott leaned back in his chair. "She worries about you. We both do. But you're growing up. We just have to trust that you know what you're doing."

"What if I don't?" Mateo glanced at him. "I didn't even really want to go. I mean, it was okay, I had fun. But, I also had fun watching Die Hard and wrapping presents. I'll have fun today when the pack comes home. I only really went to the party because Tori kept bugging me to go."

"I guess peer pressure is still a thing." Scott clasped his hands together. "You know, when I was sixteen, I went into the woods with Stiles to find a dead body... Or half of one. I could've stayed home. I even kind of wanted to. But I didn't. I made a choice and it ended up changing my whole life. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. And there were a lot of times I wished I hadn't, that I made a different choice and it never happened. There are also a lot of times that I'm thankful I did go, because I wouldn't be where I am, _who_ I am, if I didn't." He shook his head. "I'm not saying going to an abandoned building in the middle of the night is going to end up the same way, but... Sometimes you take a risk and you make a choice and you don't really know if it's the right thing. And when that happens, because it will, the only thing you can do is learn from it. Grow from it. Maybe next time you choose different or you take another risk and it pays off. That's up to you. Just as long as you know that you always have a family and a pack that will have your back, a hundred percent."

Mateo nodded. "I know." He smiled then. "Just like when I joined baseball even though I sucked at it. The whole pack showed up for every game, no matter how many times I struck out."

"Your coordination could use a little work."

"Or when I joined swimming but I wouldn't take the floaties off."

"You were _convinced_ you would sink to the bottom..."

"Or when I got that tattoo on my a-"

Scott waved at him. "Your mom still doesn't know about that one, let's keep it that way."

Mateo laughed under his breath. "All I'm saying is... I know. I know you guys care and I know you'll always support me. And I'm sorry that I didn't just talk to you."

"I won't say I'm not disappointed. I like to think we've given you enough space to grow that you know you can talk to us about things like that."

"You have. And I do talk to you guys most of the time. Even about things I don't want to talk about. Like that time I got four different sex talks after it got around the pack that I had a condom in my backpack, even though they were just handing them out in health class and we were basically _forced_ to take one."

Scott shrugged, unapologetic. "They care about you. We lucked out that way. Our pack is big and strange and very mismatched, but... we love each other. A lot."

"Yeah." Mateo smiled to himself. "It'll be good to see them."

Scott checked the time. "Your Grandpa Henry called. He'll be here early. He's hoping we'll save him some deer bacon."

"I thought he wasn't allowed to have bacon anymore. His high cholesterol is what got mom worried about _my_ bacon intake."

"Your mom's not worried about your cholesterol. She's just worried about you."

Mateo snorted. "Because she's pregnant?"

Scott looked at him, surprised. "You knew?"

He shrugged. "I have for a while."

"How long's a while?"

"Dad, come on... Even if I couldn't hear an extra heartbeat, she's been moody and sensitive and _way_ overprotective. Plus, pickle and peanut butter sandwiches? I'm not an idiot."

"We wanted to tell you, we just wanted to be sure first. And we didn't want you to think we were trying to replace you or something. The timing is a little strange, but... It just happened that way."

"My little brother or sister will be showing up about the same time I'm leaving, I get how that might be weird. But... it's okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, it sucks I won't be here to get that quintessential big brother experience, but I'm happy for you guys."

Scott grinned. "Thank you. And even if you won't be around for every milestone, you're still gonna be a huge part of their life. You know, we lucked out with you. Aside from a few scares here or there, you were always an amazing kid."

"Yeah, well, I had some great role models." Mateo knocked his shoulder against his dad's. "I didn't really know what it was like for you guys with the war. You don't talk about it a lot."

"It was a rough time. A lot happened that I regret. A lot of people were lost that didn't deserve to die..." Scott's gaze fell to the countertop. "I just know that I'm lucky to be here, to have my family and my pack."

"After everything that happened, all the people that were lost, do you ever still wish you didn't go into the woods that night?"

"It's gonna sound selfish to say it, but... _no_." Scott shook his head slowly. "I used to. I used to try to imagine what life might be like if I didn't. There were things I did that probably made it all worse and there are other things I did that might've saved a few lives. But, here's what I know... I was sixteen when I was bitten. I had no idea what I was doing and all I wanted to do was be a normal teenager. But I couldn't. So, I had to accept it and do what I could to live up to what it meant. I made a lot of mistakes. I lost a lot of good people. And those things, those people, will stick with me for the rest of my life. But I also met your mom. I helped bring her back and I watched her learn and grow and change. And she wasn't my first love, or my second, but she was my last. She got me through the most difficult, most painful years of my life. There were a lot of days when I wanted to give up, when that was all I could think about, and she stuck with me, she watched my back and got me through it. And I like to think I did the same for her."

Scott smiled. "And then we had you. Probably at the worst possible time to be having a kid, but we did. And when I was standing out there, facing down an enemy that I wasn't sure I could survive, the one thing I held onto was that if I made it through that fight, if I just held on a little longer, you would get to meet your mom. So, I fought. Like I'd been doing since I was sixteen years old. No matter how tired I was, no matter how defeated I felt, I fought. And when it was over, I found you. And that's when I knew it was worth it. All the pain, all the heartache, all the loss... It was worth it, because it brought me to that moment, where I held my son for the first time. And now, seventeen years later, here we are. You're strong, you're smart, you're healthy, and you're safe. That's all I could ever ask for."

Mateo felt his chest warm. His dad had never been short on praise; he was always quick to tell Mateo how much he cared about him. But to realize what his father had been through, how hard it had been, and how much he had fought to give Mateo a good life, it was eye-opening.

Standing, Scott clapped Mateo's shoulder. "Come on, I'll help you make breakfast. Your mom will be up any minute and she's eating deer for two."

Mateo snorted a laugh and stood to follow. "Hey, dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for, you know, being who you are. I'm the lucky one. And this kid is going to be lucky too. Because you and mom, you're pretty awesome."

Scott smiled a moment, and then reached out. He cupped Mateo's head in his hand and pulled him in, pressing a loud, dramatic kiss atop his messy hair.

Mateo groaned good-naturedly.

"What's all the groaning about?" A sleepy Malia made her way into the kitchen, staring at them squinty-eyed. "And why do I smell coffee and no bacon? I was promised post-sneak-out bacon."

Mateo laughed. "I'm on it."

Scott made his way to his wife, winding his arms around her waist and nuzzling his face against her neck. As they murmured their 'good mornings' to each other, Mateo went to the fridge to gather ingredients, rolling his eyes to himself along the way. He loved his parents, in all of their sappy glory, and he was happy for them and their not-so-empty den. He just didn't need to see them making out, morning breath be damned.

As he put together breakfast and Scott left to take a shower, Mateo grinned as his mom joined him by the stove. "I won't burn it."

"I know." She hip-bumped him. "I don't mind if it's a little crispy."

Mateo looked at her knowingly. "What?"

"Nothing." She shrugged. "I might've overheard a little of your heart to heart."

"A little?"

"Most of it."

" _Mom_."

"Okay, all of it. You get the sappy stuff from your dad."

Chuckling under his breath, Mateo wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Love you too."

Malia leaned against him. "Uh-huh. Don't think this means I'll forget about the tattoo."

"Exactly how much bacon do I need to put on your plate that you don't ask me where or what it is?"

"Since it's Christmas and I'm feeling especially forgiving..." She grinned up at him. "Just most of it."

He nodded. "Done."

* * *

.o.

* * *

Later, when the rest of the pack arrived and the house was filled with noise, Mateo soaked up every second of it. His phone buzzed in his bedroom, forgotten atop his desk. He was where he needed to be, where he wanted to be. Listening to his Grandpa Chris and his cousin Derek argue over whether Die Hard was a Christmas movie, occasionally adding to either side just to keep the debate going.

* * *

 **end**

* * *

 **author's note** : _this is late. it also feels a little disjointed and messy, but it's the best i can do. i've been working on this off and on for a couple weeks, in between work, a broken keyboard, and a flu that has been dogging me for 3 freaking weeks. so, sorry for the lateness and i hope it was worth the wait._

 _happy holidays, and please try to leave a review!  
_ **\- Lee | Fina**


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